The Tie That Binds
by CottageGhost
Summary: A promise made long ago must now be redeemed.


**_ The Tie That Binds_**

            "Whew! I made it!"

            Martha turned to see her employer leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, breathless, her hair in her eyes – and three buckets full of live seafood at her feet! She hurriedly dried her hands, shaking her head with a laugh as she went to help Carolyn with her load. "When you said you were going into town to test the waters, you weren't kidding!"

            Carolyn joined in the housekeeper's mirth. "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind, I assure you!" She pushed herself away from the wall, bending to retrieve the last of the buckets and bringing it to the counter to join the other two. She washed her hands, letting the coolness of the water bring back some life into her fingers. Those buckets were heavy!

            She nodded gratefully at Martha as she brought her a cup of fresh-brewed coffee. "You haven't seen the Captain around, have you?" she asked between sips.

            The housekeeper shook her head. "Can't say I have. But with that gorgeous weather we're having, I'd be willing to bet he's either giving that telescope a workout or he's wearing a rut in the floor of the widow's walk."

            Carolyn had to laugh at the images the words conjured up. "Good point," she conceded as she put her cup down. She made for the stairs, meaning to go look for the Captain, then stopped. "Do you need help with those?"

            Martha waved her away. "Don't worry about a thing, Mrs. Muir. I haven't met a crustacean I couldn't handle. Leave 'em to me; they'll be nice and unmoving in no time at all."

            Saluting smartly, Carolyn made her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, first to the master bedroom, then up another level when she didn't find the Captain at the telescope. Sure enough, he was on the widow's walk, but he wasn't pacing. He looked rather pensive, she thought as she got a clearer look at him. She was about to back away when he turned to her, his handsome features relaxing in a welcoming smile. "Welcome home, dear lady. Your expedition was successful, I trust?"

            She smiled at his choice of words. Expedition, indeed! "Well, it wasn't GOING to be an expedition, but it certainly turned into one, an intriguing one, at that." She came to a stop a mere footstep away from him, sitting down on the rail as she frowned inquiringly at his own raised eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to know a fisherman by the name of Isaac Baldwin, by any chance?"

            "Why do you ask, Madam?" he asked non-committally.

            Carolyn considered him in silence. The welcoming smile and the attentive look he had given her but a few moments ago had been carefully schooled into a mask of neutrality, giving nothing away. _Well, isn't that interesting_, she thought to herself. Crossing her arms, she settled herself more comfortably. "Well, it may have something to do with the fact that he asked me to relay a message to you." She watched him narrowly to see what kind of reaction that revelation would elicit. His face remained neutral, but she could have sworn his eyes had widened a bit at her words. She decided to milk the encounter for all it was worth. "I had just left the general store and was about done storing the groceries in the car when Mr. Baldwin approached me and left three buckets full of his day's catch at my feet." Carolyn didn't think she had ever been more flabbergasted; she had seen the old fisherman countless times and had noticed him looking at her from time to time when she was in town. But for the life of her, she couldn't recall ever having exchanged words with him. So for him to walk right up to her had been something of a shocker. "I tried to tell him I couldn't possibly accept his gift, but all he said was that he only asked that I give a message to you in exchange."

            He tried to keep his face impassive – oh, how he tried! But his mask of imperturbability was beginning to slip. Clearing his throat and feigning indifference, he said, "And what might that message be, pray?"

            Carolyn looked bemusedly at him as she said the words. "'I soon hope to see my pilot face to face'."

            The mask he had valiantly tried to keep in place slipped completely. Sadness and – acceptance? – dampened his eyes. He looked away from her, his shoulders slumping slightly as if a burden had just been placed there. Ever the gentleman, he turned partly back to her, saying, "Thank you for relaying that message, Madam," then moved his gaze back to the shimmering waters of the bay.

            She almost got up to leave. Almost. But something in his stance kept her rooted to the spot. She couldn't recall a time when she had seen him look so pained. "Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly, loath to intrude on what was obviously a private matter, but unwilling to let him shoulder the burden alone without an offer of help.

            He turned toward her once more, nearly facing her this time. He did manage a very small smile for her benefit, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Quite, Madam. There is no cause for concern, I assure you."

            "How about a shoulder to cry on? Could you use that?"

            His smile, though it remained sad, did reach his eyes this time. "Would that I could take you up on that literally, my dear. Really, though, you shouldn't concern yourself with this."

            "Too late." She got up and moved closer to him, stopping just short of touching distance. She kept her eyes on his until she was sure she had his attention. "Won't you tell me why this is bothering you so? You're always there for me when I need someone to talk to. Please, let me return the favour."

            Oh, if he wasn't already dead, those eyes of hers would be the death of him! He tried with all his might to distance himself, to keep from being swayed, but to no avail. There was such an eagerness to help in her green gaze that all his resolve evaporated like mist. He shook his head mock-annoyingly. "Have I ever told you you could tempt a saint, Mrs. Muir?"

            "I think you mentioned something along those lines once or twice," she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

            Shaking his head with a snort, he indicated the railing, inviting her to sit back down. He waited for her to settle herself comfortably, then opened his mouth to speak, only to realize he wasn't quite sure how to begin.

            Sensing his quandary, Carolyn said, "How about explaining to me how he knew about you?"

            His usual pride peeked through his sombreness momentarily. "Really, Madam. EVERYONE in Schooner Bay knows about me." When she only gave him a raised eyebrow, he relented. "I have helped old Isaac a number of times on his fishing expeditions. His gift to you was probably a token of his appreciation for that help."

            "Wait, wait. You HELPED him? You mean he's seen you?!?!"

            "I said no such thing," he replied gruffly. "No, I've simply 'suggested' to him some spots where a good catch was to be had."

            "Uh-huh," Carolyn said skeptically. "What about that message he asked me to give you? What does it mean? And why does it sound so familiar?"

            The Captain smirked. "Curious, aren't we? I'll tell you what: if, by the time I'm done, you still haven't figured it out, I'll tell you. But being as intelligent and well-read as you are, I'm sure that won't be necessary."

            She narrowed her eyes at him. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, just so you know. But thanks for the compliment, anyway. Now please, do go on."

            He opened his mouth once more, then closed it again, looking at her speculatively. "Actually," he said finally, "it might be easier if I showed you."

            She frowned. "Showed me? How?" Her eyes suddenly widened in comprehension. "You mean, like you did with my memorial service?" He nodded. She let out a long breath. The experience had certainly been exhilarating, but it had also kept her awake for nearly a week! Still, it had led to some closure for the Captain and, in a sense, for herself as well. Maybe this could accomplish the same. Squaring her shoulders, she reached her hand out to him. "Whenever you're ready."

            She once again experienced the half-forgotten feeling of floating, which vanished just as suddenly as it had begun, leaving her to gape at the sight now before her. They were standing on the rolling deck of a square-rigger, men in various uniforms moving about with a sense of controlled urgency. Carolyn turned her eyes to the sea, instantly regretting it: the white-capped rollers, which were already intimidating, were gaining in both height and intensity. She felt the color drain from her face, but took heart as she tightened her grip on the Captain's hand. As she focussed on the warmth of his fingers closing protectively around hers, she suddenly realized the reason for her unease: while her eyes took in the inclement elements, the rest of her felt none of it. Not the roll of the deck, the stiffening of the wind or the needle-like hail of spray – nothing. She turned to the Captain questioningly, but he had already anticipated her. "We are standing outside of both time and space, remember," he reminded her softly. It was strange, she thought, how his voice carried easily over the din of wind, canvas and wave, while the captain of the ship needed to shout his orders with the help of his speaking trumpet.

            "Mr. Gregg! Jeremiah! Take your stations, if you please!"

            "Aye, aye, Sir!"

            Carolyn's hand had tightened around the Captain's involuntarily at hearing his name. Foolishly, she looked at him, thinking the other captain was addressing him. That's when she noticed that his gaze was resting on the crosstree of the mizzenmast, where the answer to the captain's command, though muffled, had originated. She turned her eyes in the same direction, just in time to see a pair of feet, then two small legs dangling from the crow's nest's platform. As she watched, Carolyn was gradually able to make out the form of a young man – a boy, really – carefully making his way down the ratlines. He was soon followed by another form, that of a man, lean and tall, a form Carolyn would recognize anywhere. She turned once more to the Captain, a wondrous smile on her face. He simply nodded in confirmation before turning his gaze back up to watch their progress. That's when disaster struck.

            One of those rollers that had so impressed Carolyn earlier had chosen this moment to crash thunderously into the port side of the ship, making it roll precipitously to starboard. Carolyn swallowed as she saw the mastheads hanging clear above the surface of the heaving sea, then tried unsuccessfully to stifle a scream as she saw the boy lose his grip on the ratlines and fall into the raging waves. Before she could react, she watched in horror and disbelief as young Daniel Gregg propelled himself from his perch, diving fearlessly after the boy.

            "Mother of God!" 

            Carolyn turned in the direction the exclamation had come from to see an older man holding on tightly to the rail, his features contorted by worry. "Who is that?" she asked softly, her eyes never leaving the man's face.

            "That's the boy's uncle, the sailing master, Joseph Baldwin." Carolyn looked up at the Captain sharply. "The boy is old Isaac's grandfather," he clarified further.

            Reminded of the boy's plight, Carolyn turned her attention to the sea once again, her eyes quickly drawn to the figure of Daniel Gregg, valiantly cutting through the waves to reach the rapidly weakening boy. She shivered at the thrill of hearing the men raising their voices in a cheer as they saw the young seaman make a grab for the boy, then doggedly working his way back to the ship. Where everyone had been holding their collective breath, now the men virtually ran over one another in search of lines to throw and blankets to warm the saviour and his charge. Carolyn watched as the boy's uncle tied a rope around his waist, then expertly climbed halfway down the side ladder to help pull the two onboard.

            "The elements – not to mention fatigue – didn't make our rescue easy", the Captain said softly, startling Carolyn. "By the time I reached the side of the ship, I felt completely numb, and the boy seemed to weigh as much as the heaviest man jack aboard. I readjusted my grip on him as I prepared to reach for the ladder. Just then, the ship heeled unexpectedly, sucking both me and the boy under its hulk. I somehow managed to keep the boy's head out of the water, sacrificing a much needed breath in the process. I came up spluttering, kicking my burning legs as powerfully as I could to move us within touching distance of the ladder, knowing that the next wave or the next roll of the ship could very well be the death of us both."

            His eyes on the scene before them, he went on. "The wave caught me just as I pushed the boy up as far as I could go. The wall of water slammed me against the hull, dazing me, making me gasp reflexively, thus losing what little of the precious air I had managed to draw in my lungs. I went under again, knowing in my heart of hearts that I wouldn't be coming back up. I only wished I could tell with certainty whether the lack of weight on my arm meant the boy had been pulled out or that the sharp cold had finally bested me."

            "Then, I became dimly aware of the fact that I didn't seem to be sinking any further. In fact, the water felt different – thinner, I suppose would be the best way to describe it. And for some reason, I wasn't floating anymore – it felt like I was pinned to something. And I thought I heard coughing. It was hard to tell, what with a pounding headache, an aching chest and a burning throat all clamouring for attention." 

            His narrative was interrupted by one of the seamen. "He'll be all right, Cap'n. Easy, son, don't move too quick. Mind your head."

            Carolyn and the Captain watched as Daniel cracked an eye open just as the weight he had been feeling – one of the seamen, straddling his hips – lifted suddenly. He coughed again, spitting seawater, wincing as the pounding in his head increased. Someone was pressing something – a cloth of some kind – to the side of his head, just above his left eye.

            In the background, invisible to all, Carolyn looked on, mesmerized, her mind having a hard time grasping the fact that all this had already happened. It was no dream; this was _real_. She looked briefly away from the scene to glance at Captain Gregg. "That's how you got it," she said quietly, a look of realization on her face.

            "What's that, Madam?"

            "That scar, right above your left eye. I had wondered about it." Carolyn smiled. "Now I know."

            He smiled back as the fingers of his left hand unconsciously traced the old injury. "Now you know," he repeated. They both turned back as they caught sight of the young seaman shakily rising to his knees. His usually reddish hair, now burned golden by months at sea, was turning into an untidy mass of curls as the wind quickly blew it dry. He finally stood up under his own power, his long, lean swimmer's build swaying slightly as he reacquainted himself with the feel of a solid deck beneath his feet. "I'm ready to return to duty, Sir," he said, straightening up, his clear blue eyes fixed steadily on his captain.

            The captain considered him silently, then said, "Very well, Mr. Gregg. You'll assist Mr. Baldwin." Smiling somewhat teasingly, he added, "Do make sure you don't topple overboard, however. I, for one, am not foolish enough to dive into that kind of drink to rescue you."

            Blushing, the young seaman acknowledged his orders, then made for his cabin below decks to change into something dry.

            Carolyn let out a small gasp as she suddenly found herself back on the widow's walk at Gull Cottage, the gentle fall breeze ruffling her hair. She looked around, disoriented, the world around her feeling entirely too still for comfort. Her left hand clutched reflexively at empty air, already starving for the Captain's touch. When her eyes found his, she glared. "I can't believe you did that!"

            He frowned at her. "What? You don't believe me capable of effecting such a rescue?" he said, looking insulted.

            Carolyn rolled her eyes. "No. I MEAN, I can't believe you brought me back here just before I got a chance to experience a storm at sea first hand!"

            His stance relaxed instantly. "Ah. Yes, well," he said, a smirk touching his fine mouth, "if those rollers you saw gave your stomach a turn, the storm that ensued is definitely NOT something you would want to experience first hand," he finished wickedly.

            Carolyn blushed, berating herself for even thinking that her reaction could have escaped him, no matter how much was going on around them! Trying to hide her embarrassment, she crossed her arms again, smiling teasingly at him. "Oh? And diving into that churning sea didn't give YOUR stomach a turn, I take it?"

            For a moment, his mouth worked but no sound came out. Finally he smiled at her, bowing in respect. "Touché, Madam. Next time, I'll be sure we stay for the fireworks."

            Satisfied with having won her point, she came back to the subject at hand. "What happened after the storm?"

            Sitting himself on the rail by her side, he answered, "We limped into the nearest port to effect repairs and care for our injured. A number of the men sustained breaks and fractures from broken spars and slippery stairs. We were in port for nearly three weeks, most of which I spent with Joseph and Jeremiah." He smiled fondly in recollection. "That boy became my shadow. We explored the town together, went fishing, haggled with the locals over trinkets. A good lad, he was," he finished softly.

            When he didn't continue, Carolyn pressed on. "What became of them?"

            Again, that look of sadness darkened his eyes. "Once we regained our home port, Jeremiah left the ship and never sailed again. He went on to become a very good teacher, well-liked by all his pupils. Joseph remained with Captain Collins for another three years, then came to join me as sailing master on my first command." He cocked his head at her when he saw her frown. "Something wrong, my dear?"

            "No," Carolyn said slowly, still frowning. "It's just – well, given his experience, wouldn't it have made sense for Joseph to be given his own ship?"

            He gave her a small smile. "You're very perceptive," he said softly. "In fact, I asked him that very same question."

            "What did he say?"

            "That he was fortunate to do what he enjoyed most, and that he wasn't about to mess with that. Besides, he said he had to wait for someone."

            "Who?"

            The Captain pursed his lips. "Now that takes a bit of explaining. You see, Joseph's father was reputed to have 'second sight'. And he told both his sons a number of things before he passed away. To Joseph, he said that he would find his destiny on the waters of the world. There, he would meet someone who would play an important role in their family history." He looked down at his hands. "He also told him that that was where he would meet his end, in the arms of the last master and commander he would ever serve." He looked up at her, his light blue eyes almost translucent in the sun. "But before he died, he was to extract a promise from that man, a promise that would be binding unto death and beyond. A promise that, in the end, would bring that man a measure of peace – closure."

            Carolyn flinched at the word he had used. And there was that thing he had just said about death and beyond, something that niggled at her brain – "Tennyson!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, looking at him for confirmation, certain he would understand the allusion.

            He smiled at her, admiration in his eyes. "Aye, my dear. You see? I knew you would find it." And he quoted, softly: "For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place/The flood may bear me far/ I hope to see my Pilot face to face/When I have crost the bar."

            Realizing where this was going, her face fell. "He's dying, isn't he?" When he nodded, only once, Carolyn felt a sob build in her chest. "When?" she asked in a whisper.

            Before he could answer her, he suddenly straightened up, looking past her, then, doing a complete about face, he turned his gaze toward the town, his body tense, as if listening to something only he could hear. This time, acceptance overshadowed the sadness in his eyes. "Soon. If you'll excuse me." And he was gone, leaving a thoughtful Carolyn behind.

********************

            In a modest home near the harbour, an old man lay with his eyes closed, his breathing growing shallower and shallower. Two men were with him: a fellow fisherman, a friend of old, and a young physician. There was nothing more to be done; so both waited quietly, offering what comfort they could to the dying man.

            Unbeknownst to them, another presence was in the room, standing silently at the foot of the bed, his eyes never straying from the old man's face. The spirit smiled gently when he saw the man's light brown eyes crack open, looking directly at him. The man smiled in return. "You came," he said in a whisper, startling the two men sitting by his bed.

            "Of course."

            Nodding, the old fisherman went on. "So, I do finally get to see my pilot face to face." He let out a breath of laughter as he saw the worried looks on the men's faces. "I think I'm giving them a scare."

            The Captain chuckled, then grew sombre again. "I'm sorry, Isaac," he said mournfully.

            The old man shook his head. "Don't be. I've had a good run – and made some good catches, thanks to you!" He closed his eyes tiredly, his breathing becoming more laboured. "I'm glad you came," he said softly.

            "I had to," the Captain said simply.

            Isaac smiled again, his eyes still closed. "Ah, yes. One final duty. A promise redeemed. After me, you won't have to do this again. I'm the last."

            "And I'm sorry for that," the Captain assured him. "It was an honour to serve your family so."

            Isaac opened his eyes once more, taking in his surroundings one last time, letting out a contented sigh as his gaze came to rest on the Captain's face. "I think I'm ready to go now, Captain."

            The spirit held his hand out to him. "Then come, Isaac. Come with me."

            In a modest home near the harbour, a fisherman and a young physician watched as an old man let out a long breath, then slipped quietly from this life, a peaceful smile on his face.

********************

            The memorial service had been well attended. The old fisherman, while quiet, had become something of a fixture in Schooner Bay. His presence would be missed by many.

            _Speaking of presence_, Carolyn thought. She had seen neither hide nor hair of the Captain since their chat on the widow's walk two days earlier. She wasn't exactly worried about him – he WAS dead, after all – but she certainly missed him. Letting out a small sigh, she bent to place the flowers she had brought on old Isaac's grave.

            "Those are lovely blooms you've brought, my dear."

            Carolyn jumped slightly, caught by surprise by his sudden appearance. "Thank you. I'm glad you approve, as they're from the both of us," she said as she approached him, wanting to look into his eyes to make sure the pain and the sadness had gone away. The look on his face nearly took her breath away: he looked so much at peace, with himself or the universe, she couldn't say, but it was such a welcome change from two days earlier that it brought a smile to her face. "I'm glad to see you looking better," she said gently, airing her thoughts.

            He smiled back. "The result of a good deed and a clear conscience." He frowned slightly. "I'm truly sorry for the way I left you, Madam, and for being among the missing for so long, but – "

            Carolyn lifted a hand. "Why don't you tell me all about it while we walk?"

            "Boardwalk?"

            She smiled. "Boardwalk."

            They left together, the wind at their backs, the breeze gently kissing the petals of the two roses – one yellow, one dark pink – resting on old Isaac's grave.


End file.
